


Heartbeat

by AkuChibi



Series: What the Heart Wants [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Medical Conditions, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 03:58:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3235445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkuChibi/pseuds/AkuChibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin's doing okay with the whole 'boyfriend's gonna die young' thing until he comes home to find an ambulance outside the apartment building. Then things get a little less okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> I'm running out of ideas for these two, so I will probably have 1 story left, and you know what that one is, most likely. So. Yep. Unless I can think of other things.

“Please turn your papers into the front of the room on your way out. Class dismissed.”

I carefully place my paper on the pile in the front of the room. I’m the last of the students since I always sit in the back, away from prying eyes. The classroom is huge for such a tiny college. The professor stops me as I turn to leave.

“Mr. Anders, a moment, please.”

I swallow, wondering if I have forgotten something. To my knowledge, I’ve turned in all of my assignments and my test scores aren’t terrible. They’re not great, but they’re not terrible either. Liam is proud of me.

Knowing he is proud of me is all the motivation I need to keep turning everything in on time.

I face Professor Cromwell. She’s a younger woman, probably only around thirty or so. She’s pretty enough, with medium-length blonde hair, wire-framed glasses encircling dark brown eyes. She’s also very short. I tower over her and I’m roughly 5’10” last I checked.

She smiles at me. “I read your last assignment. I read you have questions concerning the heart.”

I nod quickly. That’s really all I care about – the only reason I decided to take this class.

That, and it’s a basic class I have to take if I want to do anything health related.

Anatomy is a basic, entry-level class.

“Is there any particular reason?” she asks, sitting carefully on the edge of her large oak desk. “Is that the field you wish to go in when you graduate?”

I shrug. “I don’t know about that, but, uh… I know someone with, um… a heart condition. So I thought I should learn more about it.”

This is all entirely true. I need to know more about the heart. I’ll drive myself crazy otherwise.

“I see,” she says, and in that moment she sounds exactly like Dr. Syan, my ex-therapist. It is oddly comforting. “The heart isn’t my specialty since it’s a specialization area, but I will answer any questions I can.”

I nod slowly. “Well, he has Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome.”

“Oh.” She nods thoughtfully. “I see. Not a fun condition, is it?”

I shake my head.

“What do you know about it?”

“It’s a rare congenital heart defect,” I say, recalling my own research into the topic after Liam told me about his condition. “Babies born with it need surgery almost immediately or they’ll die. The left side of the heart is underdeveloped at birth, and circulation is bad.”

She nods, watching me. “You certainly seem to know a lot about this already.”

“I did some research after he, uh… after he told me.”

I did a lot of research, and took extensive notes and printed out diagrams of what these underdeveloped hearts looked like. After Liam told me, I made a possible care plan.

Which reminds me…

“I made a care plan for him. If I brought it in, could you make sure everything sounds okay?”

I don’t want to accidentally be doing something wrong, or miss something. This is too important.

“Of course I will look it over. You know, midterms are coming up soon.”

I blink at the change in topic. “Yeah…?”

What does that have to do with anything? Midterms are in three weeks. I’m not looking forward to them.

“Well, next week I’m announcing you need to pick a part of the body to research and discuss. You can do it with diseases or defects or anything. This could be your project, since you seem so intrigued by it.”

‘Intrigued’ isn’t exactly the right word. More like obsessed, but I don’t tell her that.

Instead I merely smile and nod. “Oh, that’s great! Yeah, I’ll do that. And you’ll look over everything?”

She nods. “He’s lucky to have you as a friend.”

A friend. Right.

I nod and shift the strap of my backpack. It’s digging into my shoulder to the point where I can actually feel it.

“You can go if you want,” she tells me, smiling. “I didn’t mean to keep you, I just wanted to ask about your questions. Bring me the care plan and I’ll look it over. I must admit I’m not too familiar with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome, but I will do my best.”

I nod. “Thanks, that’s all I ask.”

She bids me farewell and I take my leave.

It’s eight at night, and this is my last class. It’s the beginning of March, the start of the rainy season. The snow has melted and it’s pouring down outside. I hate driving in the rain because it makes the black roads shiny and hard to see. Plus my windshield wipers leave something to be desired.

Anatomy is probably my hardest class. It’s hard to remember all the parts of the body, all the inner organs and everything. Except for the heart – I’ve memorized almost all of the parts of the heart, and things around it.

My other classes are English Composition, Intro to Latin, and Intro to Psychology.

It’s a requirement to have a secondary language course, though I don’t know why. I got to pick between Latin, Spanish, and French, and in the end only chose Latin because it’s used a lot in medical terms and since I’m studying health, I thought it might be relevant.

I picked Psychology because, it, too, is essential to health. Plus there’s a section in the book related to dealing with medical conditions. I’ve skimmed over it but don’t understand it too much, and I don’t want to ask Liam for help on this. He already has to worry about his condition enough without me adding to it for the sake of my classes.

And English is mandatory. I’m terrible at essays though. I always enjoyed doing short stories in high school, but essays are the worst. I hate sticking to a strict format. Where’s the creativity in that?

The drive back to our apartment – we’ve been living together for roughly a year now – takes about ten minutes after getting through all the traffic. I hum along to the radio as I drive, until I park outside the apartment building.

The backpack is heavy. My anatomy book is probably the worst, followed by the Latin book. My English Comp. book is actually rather thin, filled mainly with short examples of how to write something in APA format as opposed to MLA, and how to cite things correctly. It’s mostly reference material.

The elevator ride to the third floor is short and soon I’m pushing open the door to our shared apartment. I smell food immediately, and grin. Liam is an amazing cook; in fact, that’s his job. He’s a cook at a local restaurant about eight blocks away.

I drop my books near the couch and enter the kitchen, smiling as I come up behind Liam, draping my arms over his shoulders, leaning into him. He chuckles, the back of his head shifting against my nose as I bury my face in his slightly curly black hair.

“How was class?” he asks as he stirs our dinner.

I pull my face out of his hair and smile at the stove. Spaghetti. Yes. Delicious.

And I smell breadsticks so I know there’s some cooking in the oven.

“It was fine,” I tell him as I kiss at the back of his neck, just under the nape of his hair. It’s getting longer, just past his ears now. He keeps saying he needs a haircut but never gets one.

He shivers as my lips brush faintly over his skin. I can’t personally feel it – congenital analgesia and all that – but I love making him feel things. I love watching him feel things. The sounds he makes, how he moves, the way his eyes light up…

I press my lips on the side of his neck and start sucking and kissing. When I pull back he has a nicely colored hickey.

“You better not have just marked me,” he says, stirring the pasta again. “I do have to work tomorrow, you know.”

“I didn’t,” I tell him innocently.

He snorts and then turns. I move back only enough to let him, my arms still around his neck, resting on his shoulders. He’s now facing me, his green eyes bright and warm as they land on me, catching my own dark brown ones.

“You did,” he says, watching me. “But I forgive you.”

I smile and lean in to kiss his lips.

I didn’t used to like kissing this much. I can’t really feel it, after all. Not only can I not feel physical pain, but I can’t feel much of anything except pressure. Kisses are rather light; sometimes I can feel the slightest pressure of it, and the texture and taste, but that’s about it. So I never really enjoyed kissing because I couldn’t feel it.

Until I met Liam, anyway.

Now I can’t get enough of his wonderful kisses.

The oven beeps, separating us as Liam turns to pull it open, working an oven mitt onto his hand. He pulls out the golden breadsticks and puts them on the counter before turning off the stove.

“It’s done, love.”

I love it when he calls me that. It makes me smile every time.

I didn’t used to like being call pet names and everything. It always seemed degrading or something, like you couldn’t remember the person’s name. But after having Liam call me ‘love’… I like it.

Maybe it’s just his accent.

His faded Australian accent.

He was born in Australia but moved to the US when he was a teenager, so he still has an accent, but it’s also faded and not quite as strong as it would be if he grew up entirely in Australia. Years of being here has allowed it to ease off.

His accent is adorable.

The sauce is uncovered where it rests in its own little deep skillet, mixed with hamburger and spices. I put some spaghetti noodles on my plate and then pile some sauce over it before looking around.

“Any parmesan cheese?” I ask.

“Stinky cheese is in the fridge.”

I snort at his description of the finely shredded – almost powdery – white cheese and grab the container from the fridge, allowing the door to close behind me. I sprinkle a fine layer of parmesan cheese on top of the sauce and then put the container on the counter in case he wants to use it.

I sit at the table and stab into my food.

It’s absolutely delicious.

I moan aloud. I’ve been starving all day, since I haven’t eaten since noon and it’s going on nine now. Liam waits to eat with me all the time, even when I have late classes like today. I love him all the more for it.

He smirks at me as he sits down with his own plate. “Keep making sounds like that and I might have to jump you.”

I nearly choke on my food, swallowing thickly before quickly taking a drink. “Don’t say that,” I croak, coughing. “Jesus.”

He laughs. He has a nice laugh. “You’d enjoy it, don’t worry.”

I shake my head. That isn’t the point. The point is he’s too good at throwing me off guard with those kind of comments. My face is melting again.

We eat in a companionable silence for a few minutes.

“So classes were okay?” he asks after a little bit.

I nod, dipping a breadstick into the sauce. “Yeah – midterms are coming up and I’m not excited about it.”

“No one’s excited about tests.”

I shrug. “What’d you do today, baby?”

His face lights up like it does whenever I call him that. I try not to use the name too often so it doesn’t lose its appeal, but I do like calling him that. I like seeing him react to it.

“Work was slow so they let me leave early,” he says.

“That’s good.”

“So I came home and talked to Lydia.”

Lydia is his sister. She usually calls at least once a week to talk to him about random things.

“How’d that go?”

“Fine. We talked about how ‘scrumptious’ you are.”

I nearly choke again, covering my face as everything heats up. I’m melting again. I have to be. “W-What?” I manage to gasp.

He laughs. “Oh, God, your face. Don’t worry – nothing bad, love.”

I shake my head slowly, getting my breathing under control. When I first met Lydia, she called me _scrumptious_. I don’t know where she got that idea, but she did it and now they use it against me.

Because they’re mean like that.

“Anyway, after that I drew a little.”

I look at him. “Oh? What’d you draw?”

Our deal was that I would return to college if he started drawing again. He said it was something he liked to do when he was younger, but he hasn’t done it in years. It’s obvious drawing made him happy, so I told him to start again. And then I would start college back up.

He has shown me a few of his drawings. They are good, much better than mine will ever be. They are also getting better the more he draws. He doesn’t let me too many of them, but enough that I know he is at least enjoying himself.

That’s all that really matters.

“I just did some random doodles, really,” he tells me with a small shrug. “Nothing big or anything.”

“You should show me after we eat.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “They’re really not that good, love. I’ll draw more after work tomorrow and show you then.”

I nod. “You better.”

“So…” He squirms in his seat, averting his gaze toward the ground, his smile dispersing. I hate seeing that smile fade away.

“Yeah?” I ask. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s good. Just, um… how are you?”

I frown at the sudden question. “What do you mean?”

“How are your, uh… nightmares?”

“I haven’t had any in-”

I break off there, realizing what I’m saying.

He looks back at me and smiles. “See? I knew all you had to do was focus on something else and stop worrying about me.”

I shake my head, but he is right. I used to have a lot of nightmares about standing over his grave, worried about him and the fact he only has half a heart and his condition could worsen any time…

But since I started my classes, the nightmares have drastically cut back. I’ve only had two in roughly three months.

That is an achievement, really.

I smile at him across the table. “I love you.”

He smirks. “And I, you.”

We finish our meal in relative silence, but it’s comfortable and relaxing.

But then, everything is with him.

xXx

“Nausea.”

I frown at Professor Cromwell. “Nausea?” I echo, looking down at what she’s scribbled onto my care plan for Liam. She’s added the word ‘nausea’ under symptoms.

“Yes. Throwing up is common in people with heart conditions. As is an upset stomach. Did you know the atypical signs?”

“Atypical?” I ask, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll take that as a no, then. Atypical signs are the uncommon ones. Normal signs for heart issues are like what you have there – shortness of breath, pain in left arm, dizziness, fatigue, passing out… But there are also atypical signs.”

“Like what?” I ask, swallowing thickly.

What if I have missed something vital?

What if there’s something more wrong with Liam and I have missed it since it’s something atypical and uncommon?

I feel dizzy.

“In heart attack patients, sometimes it’s hard to identify it’s a heart attack without going to a hospital. Some of the atypical signs are headaches, nausea, stomachaches, muscle spasms, things like that.”

“Oh,” I say, because that’s all I can say right now. My head is spinning as I write down these extra signs.

Now I have to look out for headaches and other common symptoms of other things, because they, too, might be heart related.

How am I going to keep track of all of this? How am I going to know if it’s just a simple headache or stomachache and not something heart related?

What if I miss something vital?

Liam said there will be signs before his condition worsens, because it _will_ worsen eventually. His heart is weak, not only because he only has half of it, but because he had a bad infection after his heart surgery when he was little. The only known survivors of HLHS are in their thirties, and only 70% of people with this condition make it to adulthood. Liam’s doctors said he wouldn’t live to see twenty.

He’s twenty-four now.

He’s already on borrowed time, and his condition could worsen any day.

He said there will be signs.

What if he’s showing signs and I haven’t noticed them?

“Mr. Anders? Kevin?”

I swallow thickly and drag my gaze from the care plan to instead look at Professor Cromwell. Her brows are furrowed and she’s frowning.

“Is everything okay? Do you feel alright?”

“I’m fine,” I say, and my voice does not sound like my own. I clear my throat and try again. “I’m fine. Sorry. I, um… I need to be going.”

She nods slowly, watching me. “Worried about your friend with the heart condition?”

I nod as put the papers back in my backpack before shouldering it. “Yeah. He… I mean… The doctors didn’t think he’d live to see twenty, and he’s twenty-four now, so I was just… wondering what other signs would be. That’s all. Thank you for telling me. I really need to be going, though.”

“Okay… if you’re sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

She nods, and I all but flee the room.

I make it to the car in record time, tossing my backpack into the passenger seat. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m pulling out my cell phone and dialing that familiar number.

It rings several times before it goes over to voicemail. There’s a lump in my throat that makes it hard to swallow.

“Liam, it’s me – call me back as soon as you get this, please. Bye.”

I hang up and toss my phone into the passenger seat before keying the ignition.

I don’t know why I’m so on edge.

Liam is fine.

I know he is.

Just because Professor Cromwell told me some more symptoms and signs doesn’t mean anything’s wrong with him. He’s just as healthy as he was earlier today when I left for classes. He’s fine.

I’m worrying over nothing.

I take in a few deep breaths and pull out of the school’s parking lot.

I keep the radio off so I can hear if Liam calls me back. So far everything is silent.

I make it back to the apartment in record time.

And then I just sit there in the car, grip tight on the steering wheel as I watch the red and blue flashing lights.

_Oh, God, no._

I’m frozen. I can’t move. My fingers are glued to the steering wheel and all I can do is stare as a body is wheeled into the back of the ambulance. There’s a crowd outside the apartment building. All I can do is watch the stretcher roll into the back of the ambulance.

And then the spell is broken, and I’m out of the car. I’m running.

Running toward the ambulance as fast as I can.

Paramedics grab my arms, stop me.

I fight them.

_No – no, let me through!_

“Liam,” I choke, straining against them.

The ambulance doors close. The paramedic holding me back speaks to me, but I’m not listening. Not listening because all I know is Liam has a heart condition, and there’s an ambulance outside of our apartment.

All I know is Liam didn’t answer when I called, and he usually always does.

All I know is this guy is holding me back, and I can’t-

“Let me go!” I snap. “Let me go! Liam! Let go!”

I just want to get to the ambulance. I just want to get inside. I just want…

_I want Liam._

That’s all I want.

My dark-haired little puppy.

My Australian boyfriend.

My Liam.

I just want him.

The paramedic isn’t holding onto me anymore. Some strangers are. Strangers with semi-familiar faces and I know they live in the apartment building too, but all I can do is-

“No, please, let go!”

The ambulance drives away.

They don’t have the sirens on.

_The sirens aren’t on._

I know what that means.

_Oh, God, no. No. Please, no._

No sirens means the person inside is dead.

They are just waiting to announce it upon arrival at the hospital.

There are no sirens because the person is dead and there’s no need to hurry.

I don’t realize I’m no longer standing until I hit my knees, staring after the ambulance without the sirens and lights.

_No, no, no. Please._

This isn’t fair.

“Liam,” I choke, swallowing thickly. My face is wet and cold, and I know it’s not from the rain.

The rain hides the tears, but I know they’re there.

All I can see is a fresh grave, chiseled stone, disturbed earth and generic bible phrases.

All I can see is the empty apartment.

All I can see is Liam.

I blink rapidly a few times.

“Liam…?”

Liam runs toward me.

I tear free of the hands holding onto me, and they release me. I fly toward Liam and latch onto him, all but sobbing into his shoulder as I crush him to me. His arms are tight around me, tight enough I can feel him, and he’s saying something but I’m not really listening to the words, only the sound of his voice, the way it rumbles in my ears.

Liam holds me, and talks to me, but all I do is hold on.

Liam tries to pull away. I crush him tighter to me.

“Love, you’re hurting me,” he says, and I release him.

He grabs my hand and gives it a tight squeeze. I’m too numb to do anything other than stare at him. He smiles sadly and then leads me inside the apartment building, away from all those prying eyes.

Once in the elevator he cups my face in his free hand, dragging my gaze toward his eyes. His wonderful green eyes, so alive and warm.

“Oh, Kevin,” he breathes, tone sad and regretful. “I’m so sorry.”

The elevator door opens and he leads us out of it.

Before I know it we are in our apartment, the door closing softly behind us with a quiet click.

And then he’s hugging me again. Hugging me so tightly.

I melt into his hold, and we go to our knees there in the middle of the living room. We don’t say anything for a long moment. My face is buried in his shoulder, my ear against the pulse point in his neck, listening to every _thud-thud_ of his heart. Every wonderful, perfect little beat. Just listening, for what feels like an eternity.

Finally I feel calm enough to move my head away, but it’s hard.

He looks at me but says nothing about the tears I know are still on my cheeks. The tears which have stained his shirt.

He takes my face in his hands and leans our foreheads together.

We sit like that for a moment, before I draw in a ragged breath.

“What happened?” I ask, voice rough.

“It wasn’t me, Kevin.”

“I… I know.”

I know that now. I know it wasn’t him because he’s here in front of me, alive and perfect and everything I could ever ask for.

“A guy on the second floor OD’d. His girlfriend called an ambulance.”

I swallow thickly, eyes closed, our heads still together. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

“My phone was charging; it was completely dead. By the time I turned it on the ambulance was here and I knew what it would look like to you, so I ran outside, and… Fuck, Kevin, I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” I murmur, because he’s completely free of any blame here. The fault isn’t his, or even really mine. The only thing I am guilty of is assuming the worst when I arrived to see the ambulance.

But I couldn’t help it.

It still feels so incredibly real right now, even with him right in front of me.

Even with his scent all around me.

“I don’t ever want to see you like that again, Kevin,” he says quietly, so quietly I almost don’t hear him, but I do because he’s so close. His breath runs over my face. “You have no idea how… You don’t know… You don’t know what you _looked_ like…”

I can only image I looked terrible. Crying, on my knees, staring after an ambulance with no sirens and no lights. Wanting only Liam.

“I love you,” I croak, fingers twisting in his shirt, pulling him closer, our foreheads still together.

“Love you too, Kevin. Always will.”

I release a weak, shaky laugh. “I’m sorry for… for overreacting.”

“It’s okay, love. Just… don’t assume the worst next time, okay? I’m fine.”

He removes his forehead and pushes away from me, getting to his feet. I quickly follow him up, still gripping his shirt, not eager to lose contact with him just yet. He leads us over to the couch, where he pushes down on my shoulders and I sit obediently.

He twists free of my grasps and smiles at what has to be my torn expression. “Don’t worry, love – I’ll be right back. I’m just going to get you a glass of water.”

I don’t want him to go, but arguing doesn’t seem right either, so I nod. He disappears from the room and I try not to panic, and then he’s back in front of me, holding out a glass of water.

The cool liquid feels good as it slips down my throat. Some of my unease and terror slips away.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks after a few moments of silence, sitting next to me with his thigh brushing against my own.

I clutch the glass a little tighter. “No.”

“I think we need to talk about it.”

“No.”

“Kevin. Please. Don’t hold it all in.”

I take in a slow breath and close my eyes. “I thought you were dead.”

“Dead?”

“Yes. The… The ambulance… The sirens and lights were off. That means the patient is dead but they’re waiting to announce it at the hospital.”

“I see.”

“So I… I thought…”

“You thought I was in the ambulance, and I was dead.”

I nod helplessly, unable to speak at the moment, my eyes closed and my head bowed.

I don’t want to remember it. I don’t want to remember that terrible, ripping feeling. I don’t want to remember how I wondered what I was going to _do_ …

“Why did you call me?”

I pause. After all that happened, I can’t really remember why I called him, at first, but now it comes back to me slowly. “My professor, she… she added some atypical signs and stuff to… to your care plan.”

I don’t have to be looking at him to know he has raised a brow in question. “You’ve been discussing my health with her?”

“Not… I mean, more objectively than anything. Studying the condition. And… And the heart. Anyway, she said… she said to look out for headaches and stomachaches and nausea and… and I guess I just wanted to ask how you were feeling.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then laughs. It’s so sudden I open my eyes and look over at him. He’s watching me with dark green eyes. “You called me to ask if I was okay.”

I nod slowly.

“God, I love you, Kevin. Please, though, you don’t have to worry so much. I promise I’m fine.”

I nod.

“You don’t believe me.”

I chew on my lower lip and don’t answer.

He sighs and puts a hand on the back of my neck. I frown as he draws me toward him, lowering my head until my ear is resting against his chest, both of us resting at an odd angle.

Here, I can hear his heartbeat.

_Thud-thud._

_Thud-thud._

_Thud-thud._

Steady, rhythmic, the best sound in the world.

Nothing else matters but this.

I close my eyes, feeling the tension start to drain from my body.

“Hear that?” he asks softly. His fingers run through my hair. I know because he’s doing it rough enough that I can actually feel it. “I’m okay, Kevin. I promise you. I’m fine. I feel fine. Please don’t worry. I’ll tell you if that changes.”

I listen to him, and I listen to his heart.

His wonderful, beautiful, perfect heart.

And I can breathe again.

xXx

Things are different now.

I wish they weren’t.

I’m on edge now more than ever.

The dreams are back with a vengeance.

I haven’t gone to my classes all week.

I haven’t gone to work all week.

Liam hasn’t either.

He stays by my side and draws or watches TV with me, sleeps with me. He hasn’t left my side except to go to the bathroom. I’m grateful for this, especially after the sudden reappearance of the dreams, but I know he’s doing this for me. And because of me. I won’t let him leave. I tense when he moves, when I feel him move. If I look up from my textbooks and he’s no longer in the room, I panic and go looking for him.

I wish I could stop.

I don’t want to feel like this.

I haven’t left the apartment in a week.

The air is stuffy. The room is small.

I’m suffocating.

Liam reappears in the room and smiles at me, and my lungs decide to work correctly again. He hands me a cup of hot chocolate – _comfort drink, he says_ – and settles next to me on the couch. The textbook is heavy in my lap but I can’t focus enough to read the words anymore. It’s been difficult all week.

I don’t want to feel like this anymore.

Liam is okay. He’s fine. Worried about me, but fine.

So I shouldn’t feel like this.

He wasn’t the one in the ambulance. He’s fine. That should be the end of that.

Except it’s not.

Liam says nothing about my sudden clinginess. He says nothing about the fact I don’t leave the apartment.

If he sees how I relax when I hear him call off work for the week, he doesn’t say anything.

He says nothing about the situation; only stays there with me for as long as I need, and I’ve never loved him more.

He doesn’t care that I’m clingy. He doesn’t care that I haven’t gone to work or school.

He’s just there for me, and that’s all that matters.

xXx

I’m twitchy. It’s not a true physical feeling, but it’s there all the same, in the back of my mind. I squirm in my seat during class. Other students toss me odd looks.

I never noticed how long these classes were.

I stare at the clock more often than I look at the teacher. My fingers keep going for the phone in my pocket, the ringer on silent. Liam might be trying to call.

I tell myself this is crazy. Liam is fine. Everything is fine, and I need to stop acting like this.

Professor Peterson, my psychology professor, calls me up to the front after class.

“Why are you so jittery?”

I know that look in his eyes. I must look a mess.

“I’m not on drugs,” I say immediately, and his eyes narrow. I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I just… someone died in my apartment building the other week, and I’ve been… off, ever since. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” He nods thoughtfully. “I see. I’m sorry. Were you close to this person?”

“I…” I don’t know how to answer this without sounding crazy, so I just go with the truth. “No. I don’t even know their name.”

His eyes widen marginally.

“I just, um… I thought… When I got there, my, uh… my friend, he has a heart condition, and he wasn’t answering his phone, so I thought… And then I saw the ambulance, and…” I hang my head, the words trapped somewhere in my throat.

“I understand,” the professor says kindly. I know his hand is on my shoulder, but I can’t feel it. No one here knows about my condition. Not like Liam does.

Thinking about Liam just makes me want to go home all the more.

I still have Latin before I can leave.

The day is too long.

xXx

Liam is at work until seven this evening.

I come home to an empty apartment.

I drop my bags near the couch and continue into the bedroom.

The day is too long, and I need to sleep.

I close my eyes, and then I’m there.

The grave is fresh.

Not real.

I scream.

My eyes snap open and I’m alone. I’m never alone after a dream like that; Liam is always right there, hugging me.

He’s not.

I climb out of bed before I realize what time it is.

6:09pm.

Liam won’t be off until seven.

I scrub a hand over my face and leave the room.

No more naps when Liam’s not here.

The day is too long.

xXx

If Liam is surprised to see me waiting outside his work just after seven, he doesn’t show it. He simply smiles and gets in the car.

“Hey, love,” he says conversationally as he buckles his seatbelt. “How was your day?”

“Long,” I tell him honestly, pulling away from the restaurant. “Yours?”

“Long,” he says. “We were short a cook so I was the only one. It was busy.”

He sounds tired.

“You okay?” I can’t help but ask.

“I’m fine, love. Do you have much make-up work?”

“No – they sent it to me online. I did it while I was home.”

This is the truth. I could only do it when he was next to me on the couch.

I am pathetic and I want this feeling to stop.

It’s this emotional tightness I can’t ignore. I feel it, and I hate it.

We arrive at the apartment building and climb the elevator to our apartment. I key the lock and push the door open.

Liam pulls me to him, then, kissing me firmly even though his eyes are soft gems when he leans back. His hands cup my face. “I wish you would stop worrying about me.”

I release a shaky sound. “I wish I could stop.”

His expression fractures, and he pulls me into a hug. The pressure is familiar and I sink into the embrace, breathing deeply.

“We’ll be okay,” he tells me.

I close my eyes.

“I know.”

I know we’ll be okay, but for how long?

Liam will always have HLHS.

He’ll always be fighting the clock.

And I’ll always worry I’ll come home one day and find him dead.

xXx

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Liam looks up from the stove, where he’s cooking beef and noodles. “Love?”

“I… I mean…”

I didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“What do you mean? What can’t you do?”

“I’m… I can’t worry anymore. I can’t.”

It’s driving me crazy. I barely sleep anymore. I’m tired all the time.

I hate feeling like this.

“I think you need to go see Dr. Syan,” he tells me quietly. “Or…”

“Or?” I look up at him, frowning.

He is turned away from me now, shoulders stiff, spine rigid. He looks uneasy, and he is quiet for a long time.

“Liam?” I ask quietly.

“I never wanted this for you.”

“I know.”

I know he would never wish for me to feel like this. It isn’t his fault.

“We can… I – I mean if you want – it’s okay – we can – we…”

“Baby, what is it?”

“Maybe we should… stop.”

“Stop?” I echo, frown deepening as I get to my feet. He looks so – hopeless. I don’t like the way his shoulders sag. “Liam?”

“I love you,” he says, his back still facing me. I come up behind him and wrap my arms around him, pulling him backward into my chest. My chin rests on his shoulder. “I don’t like seeing you like this. I think… maybe… we need to…”

“Tell me, baby.”

He draws in a shaky breath. “We can breakup. I… I don’t-”

His breath cuts off then and I loosen my hold, knowing I am unintentionally crushing him, but it’s so hard because all I want to do is hold on and never let go.

My face buries into the back of his head.

“No,” I say hoarsely. “No.”

“Kevin – please, love, think about it. If you’re with me, you’re… you’re going to feel like this.”

I know he has a point.

As long as we are together…

As long as I love him like this…

I am going to worry about him. I am going to have weeks, even months, feeling like I do right now. It’s only going to get worse one day. I don’t know what I’ll do when that day comes, but I can’t leave him.

I don’t want to.

So I hold tight to him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him. “Please stop talking about it.”

“Kevin…”

“I love you. I don’t like feeling like this, that’s true, but… it would be worse without you. So please, just… stop.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then:

“Okay,” he breathes, body relaxing. “Okay, Kevin.”

I turn him to face me, and the kiss is tender and sweet and salty.

I’m not sure which of us is crying.

It doesn’t really matter.

xXx

I come home from my late anatomy class one day and find no supper waiting for me in the kitchen. This is odd.

The apartment is dark and quiet.

I taste bile in the back of my throat. My legs don’t want to work.

I walk into the kitchen.

It’s empty.

Everywhere is empty.

I enter the bedroom, turn the light on, and there he is – a dark lump on the bed, buried beneath the covers. Liam never goes to bed this early.

My legs are heavy. They don’t _feel_ heavy but they move as though weights are attached to them. They drag as I approach the bed.

I comb my fingers through Liam’s hair. He rolls into the touch, groaning.

My heart stutters. Races.

“Liam?” I ask around that new lump in my throat.

Dark, tired green eyes flutter open.

Then fall closed as he winces, expression contorting.

“Lights,” he mutters.

I swallow. “Are you okay?”

I sit next to him on the bed. He’s quiet too long.

“Liam?”

He winces. “Not so hard, love.”

I relax my grip on his hair, taking in a slow breath. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Mm,” he grunts, eyes still closed, expression still contorted. “Headache, love. I’ll be fine. Just give me a little-”

My eyes slam closed at the word ‘headache’ and I’m not listening anymore. Instead I’m trying to convince myself he’s telling the truth – he’ll be fine.

People get headaches. He’s had headaches before.

But now that I know it can mean something’s wrong…

“I’ll call a doctor,” I say, getting to my feet, my fingers slipping out of his hair.

His eyes snap open. His hand captures mine before I can move away.

“No,” he says quickly, pulling me back onto the bed. “No, love, I’m fine. I promise. Just… lay with me?”

I can’t say no to that, so I crawl over him and lay down next to him, on my side of the bed. He moves toward me and curls into my side, burying his face in my shoulder. I wrap my arms around him and hold him to me.

“Love – you’re all stiff.”

“Sorry,” I say quietly. It’s not something I can help.

He sighs. “Turn off the light, please.”

I frown and get up, releasing him reluctantly as I go to do just that. Then I return to the bed. This time he pulls me toward him and settles my head on his chest.

“I’m okay,” he tells me tiredly. “Listen.”

And I do.

I listen to his normal, calm, cherished heartbeat.

Later I wake and realize it lolled me to sleep.

I don’t move away.

I just listen.

xXx

I sleep so much better when my head is on his chest.

He doesn’t mind it.

The nightmares come less when I sleep like that.

One day, though, I wake and he’s not under me.

I wake and he’s shaking me. Shouting.

“Kevin – c’mon, love, wake up. Wake up. Kevin, please.”

He sounds – scared, desperate, uneasy.

My eyes open. He’s blurry. When did he learn the ability to split in two?

“Stop multiplying,” I demand. The words come out – strange.

“Kevin, hey, take it easy – an ambulance is on the way, okay?”

“Ambulance?”

My confusion morphs into-

“What’s wrong?” I ask, blinking rapidly to attempt to clear my vision. I want to reach for him, but my arm is being very uncooperative. “Are you-”

“I’m fine,” he says. His hands are warm on my face. “I’m okay. You’re sick. Your fever is 105, love. Take it easy.”

“What’s w-wrong with… me…?”

My eyelids are heavy. Anvils on top of them.

“No – stay awake. It took forever to get you to wake up, Kevin, stay awake,” he tells me, and I struggle to keep my eyes open. “You’ve got an infection, I think. Why didn’t you tell me you cut your arm?”

“D-Didn’t… know…”

I bump something all the time – I never feel it so I don’t think anything of it.

I didn’t feel well yesterday. I took some cold medicine. I don’t want to get Liam sick.

I didn’t think much of it. Now…

The bedroom door bursts open.

Paramedics enter the room.

Liam is forced away from me.

My eyes close.

xXx

_Beep… Beep… Beep…_

Consciousness returns slowly.

Something is squeezing my hand.

_Beep… Beep… Beep…_

Someone’s talking to me.

Warm, familiar.

“L-Liam…”

“Welcome back to the living, love.”

I pry heavy eyelids open and am happy to find Liam is no longer so blurry. His green eyes are warm but dark. He’s worried.

“You okay?” I ask.

He scowls. “You’re the one in the hospital, and you’re asking me if _I’m_ okay? Yes, idiot. I’m fine.”

I smile tiredly. “What happened?”

“You got a cut, didn’t see to it, and it got infected. You had a high fever.” He looks away. “You, um… Well. Let’s just say you had me worried.”

“What?” I ask, squeezing his hand. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He takes in a slow breath, eyes closing. “You had a seizure. Fever seizure.”

I swallow thickly. “O-Oh.”

That would explain that look on his face.

That look I hate so much.

“You’re okay now, though,” he tells me, bring my hand up to kiss the knuckles. “Don’t scare me like that again, please.”

“I won’t,” I promise.

“Good. And I’m checking you for injury every day when you get home from now on. Do you hear me?”

I smile, closing my eyes.

“Yes, baby. I hear you.”

I hear him, and the beat of my heart.

_Beep… Beep… Beep…_

I fall back to sleep.

xXx

Liam keeps true to his word.

Every day when I get home and he’s there – or after he gets home if he gets back later than I do – he makes me strip in the bathroom and he checks every nook and cranny for any minor injury.

He is very _thorough_ in his investigation.

And I love him all the more for it.

He kisses every bruise he finds, tends to any little cut even if it’s just a paper cut, and bandages the bigger ones. He is gentle even though he doesn’t have to be.

I didn’t realize how much I get hurt day-to-day until then.

He scolds me for injuries and then kisses me silent.

And at night I lay my head on his chest and listen to his heart.

Things aren’t quite as normal as before – but this new normal is good.

Almost better.

He’s there for me, and I’m there for him.

This new normal is perfect.


End file.
